Leo's eyes flashed; but he checked himself.
"I advise you to write to your respective fathers, young men, and tell them that for the future Halewitz can get on very well without you. Now then, off to bed."
They made their bow and sidled out. The green table had emptied fast, and only the uncle and his two guests still sat on at the upper end. The brewer pretended to busy himself with his cask in the window-seat. Leo signed to him, laughing.
"Am I going to get a glass of beer to welcome me at last, Sigilhöfer?"
"If you like, sir," the Bavarian stammered forth in awed delight, and held a tankard under the tap with a trembling hand.
Leo drank, and wiped his moustache. "Not bad, Sigilhof," he said in praise, offering his hand. "That's the first real greeting I have had since I set foot in my home."
The brewer went to the door, beaming with happiness and satisfaction at having got off so easily.
Uncle Kutowski and the Candidate drew closer together, convulsed by every gradation of fury, while the painter stared vacantly on the ground, lost in lugubrious thought.
Suddenly the Candidate started up, took three steps towards Leo, bowed and smiled affectedly, and drawled through his nose--
"I beg pardon, but I must ask you to give me satisfaction."